


Checking for Damage

by ProseApothecary



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 06:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18959527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProseApothecary/pseuds/ProseApothecary
Summary: Mapping Patrick is a standard cure for insomnia.





	Checking for Damage

David lightly runs a finger across Patrick’s cheekbone, along his jawline, down the bridge of his nose, stopping when his nose wrinkles and his eyes flutter open.

He pulls his hand back. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You ok?” asks Patrick, and for a second David is hopeful that he didn’t see anything.

“Yeah. Just can’t sleep.”

“And my nose is soporific?”

_No such luck._ “Not as much as this conversation.”

Patrick gets that frustrating little smile on his face, _the I-know-how-much-you-like-me_ smile. At least that’s how David always sees it.

“Why can’t you sleep?”

_Just the premonition that he might fuck all of this up. The store, the relationship, his new life._

“You talk in your sleep. It’s very distracting.”

“I really don’t.”

He really doesn’t. He’s a deathly quiet sleeper.

Sometimes. Often. Most nights, David hovers a hand over his nose to feel his breath. Just checking. He can feel how neurotic he’s being. But he checks his Prada sweaters for damage every couple days. So really, one should check their boyfriend for damage _at least_ twice as often.

“You did this time,” he insists, “something about how much you like your boyfriend and how you’re fine with him coming in to work late.”

“You know, oral contracts are not legally binding when one party is asleep.”

“Oh, oral contracts. You made some of those too.”

A light smattering of pink settles on Patrick’s cheeks. David thinks about all the things he did, in bars and alleys and trashed Manhattan apartments, just to see someone blush. Who knew it was as easy as making a middle-school joke?

“David,” says Patrick skeptically. “I was dreaming about pie.”

“I won’t judge. I had a really good black forest cake at the Jonas Brothers’ album party, and that night I dreamt-”

Patrick puts a finger to David’s lips. “I’m sensing this story isn’t going to end with you telling me what’s keeping you awake.”

“Apart from your weird propensity for pie?”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “Just. Come here,” he says, pulling David so that his head’s resting in the crook of Patrick’s shoulder.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” he says. And if David makes some vague noise of assent, well,  Patrick’s fingers are carding through his hair, dragging him off to sleep, which is almost certainly some form of duress, and contracts made under duress are Not Legally Binding.

Not that he minds being bound by Patrick _._ He thinks about saying it out loud. Thinks it would probably make him blush again, but he doesn’t mean it like that. Well. Not just like that.

David likes being needed, even when it’s just to get coffees and tuna melts. Back when he had all the freedom in the world somehow he only ended up hurting himself. But now he has a duty to someone, and it turns out that it’s a lot harder to screw himself over when he’d be screwing Patrick over too.

Patrick doesn’t think David is going to screw up. Patrick acts like David’s the surest bet he’s ever made. And Patrick is smart and rational and right about things a frustrating amount.

So, against all experience, David thinks he might have a chance.


End file.
